Huntsman
by turnslightly
Summary: A story inspired by the character of the Huntsman in Snow White and the Huntsman, but in a Princess and her knight style story of romance and adventure
1. The Ball

She smiled with delight at Alex's words. He knew how to tell a story well. For the past half hour she had sat captivated by his description of his journey to reach her, through marshland, fighting off bandits, commandeering a boat at the pirate's port. He had completely distracted her from the ball itself, until a pair of blue eyes over his shoulder brought her back.

Huntsman was frowning at her from the side of the hall. He was a tall and muscular man, with long fair hair to his shoulders and a rough beard. He wore his dark guard's uniform, with no effort to blend into the crowd of courtiers and guests laughing and dancing nearby. Ella saw some ladies eyeing him appreciatively and suppressed a smile.

"What are you smiling at Princess?" Alex asked.

She turned back to him. His own smile was incredibly infectious and she could not help but grin back at him. His dark hair was cut shorter than most, in the style of a recent trend, and he wore the white jacket and sash of a Prince of Hauve. The youngest of his brothers, Ella found him the easiest to talk to, less haughty than the other two, whom she found a little too aware of their superior status.

"I'm allowed my secret smiles aren't I?" she laughed. It was easy to be happy around Alex; he demanded nothing of her. All he wanted when he visited was to tell her stories and make her laugh.

She glanced around the great hall of the palace, breathing in the atmosphere. It had been some time since the last ball. The stone walls and columns, the crisp linens, and the cutlery and goblets all gleamed golden and silver. The attendees wore all the colours of this season and the last, swirling around the dance floor like a shifting mosaic of bobbing heads and fluttering fans. The orchestra swelled in its balcony, spilling light music down on to the crowd.

"Are you allowed to dance too? We've been sat here all this time; I'm afraid I've stolen you away from your father's ball," he asked, offering his hand.

Ella smiled ruefully, "I've already promised my first two dances to someone else actually. Will you find me later?"

She started to rise, only to find a familiar hand in hers, helping her up. They had both missed Huntsman's silent approach. The Prince looked a little surprised and annoyance flashed across his face; this was clearly a mere guard demanding the attention of the Princess, but she was all smiles as she turned back to him expectantly.

"I will hold you to those dances your highness," he promised, kissing her hand- the one that was not still held by her unexpected acquaintance.

The pair made their way to the dance floor through the thronging courtiers, who hovered like colourful butterflies near to the King's dais. Ella's lilac ballgown floated down the steps, the train rippling like water. Her tiara twinkled in the candlelight from the three enormous chandeliers suspended above them. The guests looked exuberant, just as her father had wished. With news of the war at their borders coming thick and fast, he had felt that everyone needed a little light relief. Plus it was all about strengthening relations, he had emphasised, inviting Princes, Dukes and Counts from many surrounding areas to join their revelries. Ella sighed at the thought. This was not a problem that her two older brothers faced. They were allowed to focus on the battles at hand.

Huntsman turned curiously at her sigh. "What's the matter Princess, you seemed so merry only moments ago. Did I steal you away at the wrong time?"

His deep voice sounded troubled and she smiled kindly at the obvious jealously on his face. "Not at all," she replied.

As the orchestra started a new piece, they stepped together onto the marble floor to join the dance. It had been some time since she had danced with him, and both felt it immediately, in the heightened awareness of every touch, the shift of his hand on her waist, the way her arm rested on his, their other hands entwined. He held her a little too intimately for such a public place, but she had not the desire to step back. From the corner of her eye she saw Alex watching, his expression still peeved.

"I don't like the way you smile at him," Huntsman growled under his breath, too quietly for the closest partners to hear them.

"I'm here for my smiles, you know that." Ella met his eye and held it, even as they turned together. "It is not like you to be so troubled."

Huntsman was not fond of these luxurious balls, she knew, but he was not usually this gloomy in the face of fine food and music. She thought of the last time he had held her, during the barn dance out in her father's fields, stamping their feet to a very different kind of music. He had been so merry at the time but now he just seemed on edge.

"I smile at him because I like his smile. When I give him one, he gives it straight back," she quipped, hoping to lighten the mood.

"He hopes you will marry him,"came the response and she frowned immediately at the direction his mind had gone. There was the reason for his distraction.

Glancing around, all that she saw confirmed his fears. On every balcony stood young men, all sporting their finest regimentals and hoping, no doubt, to strengthen the relationships between their nations. No thought was to be given to the relationship that the newlywed couple would enter into, not when politics was concerned.

As if following her thoughts, Huntsman's arms gripped her tighter and she gasped involuntarily at the expression on his face. He looked passionate beyond words and she sought wildly for a way to soothe him. There were no promises she could make that her father could not force her to break.

Stroking his fingers was a small enough movement, surely, to be missed by those watching eyes. She bit her lip with worry. The music morphed into the second piece, slower. They copied the dancers around them, taking stately paces around each other, moving to touch then turning away, keeping the appropriate distance. At last they reached the section of the dance where hands could clasp and she moved into his chest.

"If I could dance every dance with you, I would," she whispered.

His eyes softened, crinkling at the edges. "I know."

He spun her away again with the music, her dark, waist-length hair rippling out behind her in waves, before catching her hand again. Ella could sense the appreciation from the crowd for the way her gown flowed with the movement, but could find little joy in it this evening. Of course Elena, her seamstress, would make her the most eye-catching gown for tonight of all nights. As if she wanted any further attention from the crowd.

As the music wound down, she could see Alex striding down the steps, eager to reclaim her attention. She turned back to Huntsman, searching his face. Would he be calm? But her fears were unfounded. He was mild mannered if not entirely friendly when he released her hand. Only the tension in his eyes as they parted hinted at his unhappiness.

"You dance with the guards too Princess," Alex started straight away as he led her back into the dance. "You amaze me with your generosity."

"Some of the guards here are childhood friends, as dear to me as my brothers," Ella responded lightly.

He humphed, "He could have at least worn a formal cape like the others." Indeed all the other guards in the hall sported floor length crimson capes that gave them a very heroic air. Privately, Ella didn't feel Huntsman needed it.

They danced the next two without speaking, but by the time he led her back to the raised dais he had returned to his previous joviality.

"You must come and visit me at our court, my lady, we would throw a ball in your honour."

Ella smiled tightly but Huntsman's remarks had her guarded now. She had always welcomed visits from the young Prince but now his comments seemed weighted with importance.

"Perhaps, if my father visits," she answered, leaning against the golden railing to watch the dancers below. Huntsman had vanished.

"Come Princess, what's the matter?" Alex leaned backwards against the railing to face her and the other lords on the dais. He smiled impishly, "I will have you laugh again."

She tried not to smile back but his grin was contagious. "I would like to visit," she admitted, "if only to see the lavender fields again. They were beautiful!"

"And the blossom in the Spring, the way it falls like painted rain," he persisted.

"Yes, the apple blossom. Do you remember the sheer amount of it that got caught in my hair?" she giggled at the memory.

"You must have been washing it out for weeks!"

"Months!" She laughed, but saw that his gaze had turned speculative, his eyes on her long tresses. She spun quickly at the sound of her name.

"Ella!" The King was beckoning to her.

She took her leave of the Prince, who graciously let her go, and weaved her way through the guests to her father's side. He kissed her cheek and she smiled as his whiskers tickled her ear. The King was growing older and a little on the portly side, but it was clear to see he had once been a heroic figure of a man, and muscles still bulged down his arms. He wore cream with a champagne sash and a golden crown hugged his temple. He had recently started wearing a monocle for reading and used it now to peer down at his only daughter.

"Well, you seem to be getting along with Prince Alexandr Hauve more and more," he beamed.

His daughter bit her lip. "He amuses me," she shrugged, but the King would have none of her coy behaviour.

"He likes you. You like him. It's clear when you look at him!" he exclaimed and Ella cringed inside. Was that was Huntsman saw when he looked at them? That wasn't how she felt.

"So why do you wince every time I mention marriage to you?" he continued, finally lowering his voice.

There were more than enough eavesdroppers in the surrounding crowd and Ella blushed, glancing around at them pointedly. Her father, thankfully, got the hint. "Okay, okay, we will speak no more of it now. But later, I expect a full report!" he snapped, just as he did to his generals.

She smirked, "Yessir!"

It was a game they had played since her infancy, when she had sat by his throne, toying with her doll as important matters were discussed over her head. At the end of the meeting, her father would always turn to her and demand a full report on her singing lessons, her writing, and later her horse riding. She had always felt pride at being included in his important business updates, even if she knew her older brothers had rolled their eyes behind her back. It was kind of her father, in a world were daughters meant very little.

Later that night, after her handmaids had finished helping her undress and truss up her hair with ribbons, Ella lay alone in the darkness, lost in thought. If she had to marry without love, she could do much worse than the handsome Prince of Hauve. Alexandr. The name conjured no feeling in her. He could make her smile, but she smiled easily and often. His kingdom was beautiful, but she was in love with her own.

She knew the problem, of course. Those who have never known love may give their hand freely and without pain to the most advantageous match. She recalled the feeling of Huntsman's hand on her waist and shivered as goosebumps ran up her spine. Her scalp tingled as she imagined what it would feel like for him to run his hands through her hair. Slipping out of her warm bed, she scampered, bare-foot, across the stone floor to where the dying embers of her fire still glowed. Crouching, leaning into the hearth, she inhaled the smell of wood smoke and sighed. He could have been in the room with her.


	2. The Meeting

Light hit the walls of the castle first, then ran down to bless the inner and outer courtyards, the houses and the market. The high walls that surrounded the castle and its town also enclosed the soldiers' barracks, several paddocks and a sea of thatch that had risen up as the war spread across the borderlands. More and more people seeking refuge. The King helped them raise simple huts but hoped that it was only a temporary solution. They were promised annually that this was their last winter within these walls, that they would be going home soon.

Huntsman rose with the dawn and strode into the outer courtyard to splash water on his face, straight from the fountain. The air was already warming and his skin quickly dried as he stretched. By midday the air would be baking hot. It was promising to be a glorious summer.

Back at his bunk, he tugged his jerkin over his head and tied the laces. The cotton shirt was the one he had slept in and he noted idly that he would need to have it all washed soon. The washerwomen at the castle had too much to do with their hands and nothing to do with their heads so they gossiped all day. Nicknames were born at the washing house, and scandals spread.

His arrival had not been too much of a scandal- he was one of many promotions to a position in the castle since the beginning of the war. Strong men were scarce and guards were always required. Yet they had known of him. Since the first day he had step foot in the washing house he was 'Huntsman'. Regardless of his position now, his father had been a huntsman, his grandfather had been a huntsman, and to them he was one still, new uniform or not.

To their annoyance, he hadn't mind in the slightest; he had always enjoyed working in the forest, and the name reminded his captain that he had skills to be utilised in ways other than standing in the throne room, bored out of his mind. It was for this reason that he had been assigned today to the back paddock, to assist and tutor where he could.

When he arrived several men were already there practising. Riding their horses down the length of the paddock, they had to ready their bows and shoot at a target before reaching the end, where they would turn and canter back down again for another go. Half of them missed the target. One threw a small axe instead of shooting, which hit the target edge and stuck hard.

Huntsman whistled, there was a strong arm on that one.

He turned at the sound of his name and paused in surprise. Tarkin, the stable master, was gesturing him over to the next paddock, where the Princess Ella herself stood waiting. She was lean and serious-looking, dressed in protective leathers, a short skirt hid some of her riding trousers, and her feet were clad in worn black boots. Her dark eyes ran over his face as he assessed her in turn, noting her thick hair was braided up into a cascade like a horse's tail. This was clearly not her first practise session.

"Your highness," he bowed, approaching the fence.

Tarkin gestured to the Princess, "Sir Jay Ren would normally spar with her but he's pulled half the muscles in his back."

Huntsman nodded slowly and turned back to the Princess as Tarkin left. The old knight, Sir Jay Ren was the head of the armoury, it made sense that he had taught the Princess some protective manoeuvres. Climbing through the fence into the paddock he smiled at her encouragingly. It was good for women to learn to fight. He had taught his sister back home, and he would be happy to teach her some tricks too. He pulled his long axe from the straps on his back and leaned it up against the fence.

"What do you normally use to fight? Daggers, a knife?" he asked, his hands on his hips.

"Sometimes. Today, I just felt like some straightforward swordplay," she answered, chin up, daring him to contradict her. He had no idea why anyone would. Even if she were not the Princess, she had a conviction about her that came naturally to those born to lead.

"Not a problem," he answered with a small smile, drawing his own blade from where it hung at his hip. She strode to a rack of swords on the edge of the paddock and selected one, testing its weight. He was struck suddenly by the impression that she had probably been doing this for years. He mustn't go too easy on her then.

Turning to face him, she stepped forward and raised the weapon in front of her face, closing her eyes. He waited for her attack, watching her controlled breathing, the way the breeze tugged at stray strands of her hair around her pale neck.

When her eyes opened the attack came fast; a slash, a stab, a feint to the right and another slash at his body. She fought intelligently. She had to, slight as she was, when facing his strength. He blocked her cuts, trying to decipher a pattern to her attack, but it was seemingly at random, a mixture of feints and blocking that carried his weight onto the wrong foot, creating openings. Huntsman found he was working quite hard to keep up with her and beginning to enjoy himself.

The longer they fought, the faster she seemed to move her blade, focusing more on speed than strength, darting past his defences. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead as they twisted apart and started to circle, swords raised. Despite the uneven ground, she never misplaced a step. He had to admire her, even as he looked for unguarded areas- she was certainly far better than he had expected.

With a clash, their shining blades came together again, before she whirled to place her back against his chest, pulling his sword arm closer with one hand and and with the other reversing her sword to aim into his body. But he was already moving, twisting out and stepping forward to carry her momentum backwards and trip her. But she'd rolled into the movement, dragging him forward, staggering to stay upright. He turned, adrenaline turning to anger, in time to see her flip back onto her feet and charged her quickly to regain the upper hand. Their swords clashed and he put all his weight into each swing, forcing her to bare the brunt of a full on attack.

"Ha!" he cried, as he feinted, giving her an opening, then finally got in under her guard. His sword hovered by her neck and he licked his lips, suddenly aware of how dry they were from the blazing sun. "Do you yield Princess?"

She smirked at him, eyes bright and skin flushed from the exercise, "Do you?" She glanced down and he became aware of the pricking of a dagger against his stomach.

Releasing his position, he stepped back and lowered his weapon, smiling despite himself. "Very good your highness. Have you practised all your life?"

"Since I was fourteen," she grinned at him, returning the slim dagger to a nearly invisible holder under her left hip. "So, about ten years. I can shoot and ride but I must admit I prefer a straight fight sometimes."

"I'm not surprised. You must enjoy the look on men's faces when you dump them in the mud," he chuckled. He couldn't stop his eyes flicking back to the secret knife at her thigh. Women rarely wore such figure-hugging clothes and she was no average woman.

The Princess nodded in agreement, still smiling. "You were disappointing in that way," she commented, but she didn't look disappointed. They both stood for a moment, allowing their breathing to slow, enjoying the feeling of exertion. Around them, guards and civilians practised manoeuves. He noticed her eyeing the axe he had left by the fence.

"You fight with that?" she asked quietly. The large blade of the axe shone bright in the sunshine.

"I can do," he shrugged. "Or I can chop wood, or kill a deer, or protect my lady." He fell quiet wondering if he was saying foolish things.

"So you are a huntsman in more than just your name," she pondered. Walking over, she tossed down her sword to lift the axe with both hands. She felt its weight for a moment, then smiled ruefully and carefully placed it back down. "You must be even stronger than you look to wield that in battle."

Huntsman nodded seriously, "It's too heavy an axe if I only used it for battle. Adrenaline counts for a lot. My muscles ache for days after hours of fighting."

She bit her lip. "So you've been in battle then?"

"Once or twice. My parents live in the borderlands and the fighting sometimes spills over." He watched her expression as she listened. At the mention of the borders her eyes had darkened, she frowned at the ground.

"People should not have to fight to protect their homes."

"I agree Princess."

She grabbed up her sword and settled back into a fighting stance, "Again!"

"Is that why we practise your highness?" Huntsman asked, knowing he was overstepping his boundaries. He couldn't help it, the idea of her in a battle, expert fighter though he knew she was, was not an idea that sat comfortably with him. She was more than his Princess now, faceless, living in the castle, she was the beautiful warrior in front of him. Quick with a blade she was, but he would step in front of any harm before she would need to defend herself.

She just smiled grimly, "again."


	3. Changes

As Ella left the training paddocks to return to the castle she could not help but grin to herself. She was exhausted from the training. His tall, muscular stature and commandeering style of attack was perfect opposition to push her techniques to the limit. As a slender, light-weight woman, an observer's money would be on him every time, and yet she had managed to hold her own for three bouts. She had not been able to win out-right, but each time they had been forced to stop for an impasse.

But that was not all, she had to admit. As soon as she had seen him, a flicker of recognition had piqued her interest. And there was more, that electric charge that she had felt every time he had met her eye. During the fight it was easier to ignore but even then, the occasional brush of skin on skin or his body close to hers... She was too naive in the ways of the heart. She knew that to some of her handmaidens this would have been nothing, nothing at all. She thought again of the way he had looked at her as they parted, wondering, and the grin grew wider. Huntsman. She hoped they would be able to fight again.

"Good practise my lady?"

Her guards had appeared on either side of her. Since the start of the war, her father had assigned Joe Mailer and Cain Ren to trail her everywhere she normally went alone. It had been awkward at first but the war had been going for years now and they were comfortable in each other's company.

Joe was a large, gruff man with cropped greying hair and five daughters. You would not be able to tell by looking at him that he could sew delicate buttons back onto dresses, but Ella had learned first hand that he was more than a tough visage. Cain was leaner, but still muscular, about thirty years old with ginger hair to his shoulders. He was quiet and watchful, and sometimes exchanged witty glances with the Princess when people around them were being dull. She was exceedingly fond of both of them.

Her handmaids were ready for her return to her quarters, prepared with a hot bath and a clean dress. Ella felt a little guilty as she slipped into the steaming water. She wondered if her training partner would have the luxury of a hot bath now. Probably not, he was probably still working in that heat, instructing some of the other guards maybe, possibly even some of her friends.

Ella had grown up with no sisters and two older brothers, who were already play fighting while she learned to walk. By the time she was four she could hold a wooden sword and chase the boys around the castle grounds with enough noise to vex her father. He had exiled her screaming battle cries to the outer courtyard, where she had met the children of her father's guard. Over the years, Ella had grown much more ladylike, but she was not too high and mighty to share a wink with any of her former playmates. Those who were left here in any case; many of them had volunteered for the army when the war started.

Turning her mind back to more pleasant thoughts, Ella let her gaze wander around her room. The large tin bath stood by the fireplace in her bedroom, facing her four poster bed. The drapes were dark crimson and gold, the royal colours. Her dressing table stood by the window, overlooking the inter courtyard, where the ladies of the court often gathered. Through a door was her private parlour, for her embroidery or singing practise. Only her handmaidens, a couple of tutors and her family were allowed entry to these rooms.

Ella thought for a moment about what a novelty it would be to introduce someone new to her private suite. Would she be embarrassed by the faded rug or the painting of her childhood pony? She looked around with fresh eyes and realised she was picturing a certain guard entering her bedroom. He would stand there, smiling at her personal objects, reading the titles of her books maybe, then his eyes would turn to the bath. Ella felt a deep blush emerging as the sound of her maids returning startled her from her daydream.

"Your presence is requested by the King and Queen your highness," May called through the door. "Are you finished with your bath?"

"Y- yes," Ella replied, having to clear her throat to get the word out. Where had that come from?

May and Louisa entered, continuing a conversation they had been having outside, and helped her out of the tub to dry and dress. Ella liked to listen to their patter. Louisa, the older of the pair, had been fixating on a man recently, a gardener that May thought she had seen flirting with someone else. She smiled at their drama, even as Louisa took out her frustration on Ella's corset ribbons.

Hurrying to the King's parlour, she paused for a moment to straighten her dress and smooth her hair, before nodding to Joe to open the door for her. He and Cain would wait outside until she was ready to go.

"Ella, darling," her mother called from the floor. She was sat on a large pillow in the middle of the rug, playing with two adorable little kittens. Her father sat nearby with a book, pretending to read but obviously engrossed in the cats' behaviour.

"Oh mama, they're so sweet!" Ella cooed, rushing forward to her knees.

"Hold one if you like," her mother smiled. She was actually Ella's stepmother, but as her real mother had passed away when she was a baby, she had always referred to Juliet as mama. With her large, dark eyes and pale skin, the two almost looked related, apart from her mother's hair, which curled in thin, blonde ringlets to her shoulders.

Ella carefully picked up one of the fluffy kittens. They were so young they could barely walk. "Where did they come from?" she wondered.

"They belong to Margo, in the kitchens. Her cat had a litter of ten if you can believe it! She is making arrangements to give them away but there are more than anyone expected. I asked if we could play with them for a while and she was more than happy to bring them up." Her mother beamed up at the King and Ella caught a secret look between them.

"Ella," her father started. "There is something we need to discuss with you. A couple of changes to be made."

The Princess sighed down at the kitten in her lap, "You are just a little distraction aren't you?" She turned back to her father, "May I ask what you are changing that you feel the need to bribe me with these sweet little kittens?"

The King's brow furrowed, "I know you enjoy practising your riding and sword craft along with your singing and everything else you do. However, we are starting to feel that it is time for you to really focus your attention elsewhere."

Ella raised her eyebrows. She turned to her mother but she was still babying the other kitten. "More important than being able to defend myself. With a war going on?"

"Oh come now Ella," her father chided her. "You know you are better than most of the guards out there now, and since Sir Ren has put his back out, I thought it was the perfect time for you to, well, reign it in a bit."

Her eyebrows climbed higher. "Interesting choice of words. And what do you propose I focus on instead?"

"Don't make me spell it out!" He moaned. He hated these types of conversations. Battle plans, budgets and politics he could handle, but this was women's talk.

His wife chimed in to help him out. "We just want to make sure that you make a good match, Ella! You need to ensure you are to be well looked after, that you'll have brought strength to the kingdom, done your part..."

She looked hopelessly at her stepdaughter, who had placed the kitten down and was rising now, shaking her head. She turned to her father imperiously, "You would like me to stop playing the soldier and start playing the dutiful wife, is that it? You are bored with entertaining your daughter's fancies and would like to employ her to the kingdom's advantage by selling her to the highest bidder."

"That is enough Ella," he snapped. "Stop being so melodramatic. I know it's scary to think of leaving your home but we are not talking about sending you away, not necessarily. In fact, I think with the position the kingdom is in it is very important to choose wisely, and from nearby. I propose to hold a few balls in the coming months, and maybe invite a few friends from abroad." He turned his most royal gaze upon her. "You will attend and be courteous, as a representative of our house. In the absence of your brothers, I depend upon you for this task."

Ella stared at her feet. She could not deny her father in this, it was her duty. But perhaps a compromise could be made. Maybe she could keep some small semblance of control over her own life.

"I have found a new practise partner today father," she said in a small voice. "If he is willing, perhaps I could still train a few mornings, just for the exercise..." she trailed off hopefully.

He sighed and rubbed his knee thoughtfully. "I suppose, a little exercise would not hurt."

Her mother had pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Who is this fellow you have been fighting then?" he asked, relieved to change the subject back to safer ground.

She smiled, and blushed a little too but he did not seem to notice, "They call him Huntsman. He carries an axe even larger than Sir Ren's."

"Is that so?" the King responded, but she could tell he was still distracted.

"I am sorry father, for what I said. I know you don't plan to sell me off."

He paused awkwardly.

"Ah," it clicked. "Is there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"Well this one is out of my hands, but I felt it my duty to inform you. As you know, we will be sending another wave of fresh soldiers to the border within the next few months. Cain Ren has put his name down, no doubt following his father's footsteps and aiming for a knighthood of his own. He's a good man, that one..."

But Ella was no longer listening. Her friend Cain, her loyal guardsman, would be leaving soon for battle. It did not seem possible. So many of her friends had left and now him too? She went and slumped into an armchair by the fire, stunned into silence.

Her father prattled on, "I'm rather surprised he had not signed up before, a fit young man such as him. I've seen him in the practise rings and he is pretty good."

Pretty good? A man's life would hang on pretty good. A few callous thoughts about her father passed through Ella's mind, but she knew that he was just trying to help. He had not signed Cain up, it was Ella he was concerned for. He knew she was not selfish enough to order him to stay. She glanced towards the doors, behind which she knew her guards would be waiting for her.

Her mother came to sit on the arm of the chair and started stroking her hair. "I know it's a lot to handle sweetheart. But nothing is going to change straight away. The garrison will take months to supply itself before he leaves, and in the meanwhile you'll have balls and distractions..."

Ella moved away from her mother's ministrations, and took her hand instead. She nodded to herself. She would do her duty, of course she would. There was just a small voice inside her screaming 'it isn't fair!' but life wasn't fair, and she was the Princess. She would play her part.


End file.
